Thornton: St. Anselm, a Guide for Anglicanism Today

 
    Come now, little man,
turn aside for a while from your daily employment,
escape for a moment from the tumult of your thoughts.
    Put aside your weighty cares,
    let your burdensome distractions wait,
    free yourself awhile for God
    and rest awhile in him.
Enter the inner chamber of your soul,
    shut out everything except God
    and that which can help you in seeking him,
    and when you have shut the door, seek him.
Now, my whole heart, say to God,
       'I seek your face,
    Lord, it is your face I seek.'

                                 *

       O Lord my God,

    teach my heart where and how to seek you,

    where and how to find you ...

                                 *

    I confess Lord, with thanksgiving,

    that you have made me in your image,

so that I can remember you, think of you, and love you.

But that image is so worn and blotted out by faults,

    so darkened by the smoke of sin,

    that it cannot do that for which it was made,

    unless you renew and refashion it.

Lord, I am not trying to make my way to your height,

for my understanding is in no way equal to that,

but I do desire to understand a little of your truth

    which my heart already believes and loves.

I do not seek to understand so that I may believe,

    but I believe so that I may understand;

       and what is more,

I believe that unless I do believe I shall not understand.

~ excerpt from Chapter 1 of the Proslogion by St. Anselm of Canterbury

Saint Anselm was Archbishop of Canterbury in the late 11th and early 12th centuries.  Among his writings is the Proslogion (meaning colloquy, or conversation, in this instance between Anselm and God).  The full title given to the work by Anselm himself is Faith in Search of Understanding.

Martin Thornton, in his book English Spirituality, identifies Anselm as the father-founder of the "English School" of Christianity.  In Anselm, we have the first great exemplar of the "affective-speculative synthesis" in theology.  By this, Thornton means that we find in Anselm's writings neither solely passionate, emotional, experiential religious devotion (the affective), nor a coldly logical, purely rational philosophic pursuit (the speculative); rather, we find a true synthesis of the two.  Thornton writes,

The affective-speculative synthesis does not mean an exact fifty-fifty balance, nor is it attained either by adding an occasional devout phrase to a theological work, or by interposing one or two quotations from the Fathers in an affective meditation.  It is a synthesis, not merely a mixture, and the true synthesis is possible to different temperaments.  Everyone has a natural bias to one side or the other, and spiritual health is attained by allowing this bias to be permeated by the other aspect through mental and emotional discipline. 

St. Anselm is often misunderstood precisely because his critics fail to grasp this synthesis, and instead want to peg him as a philosopher in a more post-Enlightenment sense.  For example, the famous, much debated and often criticized "ontological argument" (God is that than which nothing greater can be thought) comes from the Proslogion.  But it was not intended to be a proof of the existence of God in the modern, philosophical sense.  Rather, it was a spiritual-intellectual insight born out the experience of fervent prayer, a desire to know and love God better: faith seeking understanding.  As Thornton puts it, we may well imagine the affective theologian preaching to an audience with a desire to elicit an emotional response, while the speculative theologian is alone in his study, in company only with his books and the keenness of his mind, "but whatever one reads of Anselm, he can only be visualized on his knees, not trying to do anything but worship God.  Approached in this way, Anselm still has much to say to modern English spirituality."  

For St. Anslem, the journey begins with the gift of faith, and continues by and in that faith.  This point is fundamental (I believe that unless I do believe I shall not understand).  But it is not a blind faith.  It is a faith that sincerely and fearlessly seeks understanding.  Truly, we are in need of the example of this saint now as much as ever.  Thornton concludes,

Thus Anselm speaks to modern Anglicanism: we are right to grapple with the deep mysteries of the faith; "blind faith" is not loyalty but sloth.  If doubts arise in the mind, they are to be calmly faced and resolved as the struggle continues, they are hurdles to be jumped as we progress toward understanding and love.  That is truly Anglican, for it is neither "free thought" in the sense that anyone has the right to believe what he likes, nor does it make dogma anything but dogmatic, but it does not impute sin to honest inquiry.

Thus the pastoral answer to intellectual doubt is not that it is wicked to doubt the dogmas of the Church, nor that it does not very much matter.  The answer is in the acceptance of a creative challenge.  So, to a spiritual guide, such difficulties should be neither shocking nor unimportant.  They should be seen as positive not negative, a call to further action: it should be "let us see how to use this" rather than "oh but you must trust the Church" or "try not to worry".  What Anselm is saying, in Sunday school language, is when in doubt go and tell God about it, and keep on arguing: the result could be another Proslogion.

The Anglican Church, therefore, is wise not to promulgate a series of new dogmas, to be held on pain of ecclesiastical censure.  It is very unwise to allow contrary opinions on fundamental doctrine.  Anglicanism needs no Index of prohibited books, not through lack of discipline but because of its Anselmic spirit.  But it is both foolish and unfair not to give positive pronouncements as to what Baptism, Confirmation, the Real Presence and the Virgin Conception really mean, because such dogmatic statements, rather than inhibiting reason and understanding, are the basis of them.  One cannot "believe in order to understand" when one does not know what to believe in the first place; one cannot even indulge in the creative process of doubting.

Peace of Christ.

  

     

Catherine of Siena: On the Virgin and the Incarnation

Saint Catherine of Siena writes:

If I consider your own great counsel, eternal Trinity, I see that in your light you saw the dignity and nobility of the human race.  So, just as love compelled you to draw us out of yourself, so that same love compelled you to buy us back when we were lost.  In fact, you showed that you loved us before we existed, when you chose to draw us out of yourself only for love.  But you have shown us greater love still by giving us yourself, shutting yourself up today in the pouch of humanity.  And what more could you have given us than to give your very self?  So you can truly ask us, 'What should I or could I have done for you that I have not done?'  I see, then, that whatever your wisdom saw, in that great council of yours, as best for our salvation, is what your mercy willed, and what your power has today accomplished ...

O Mary, I see this Word given to you, living in you yet not separated from the Father -- just as the word one has in one's mind does not leave one's heart or become separated from it even though the word is externalized and communicated to others.  In these things our human dignity is revealed -- that God should have done such and so great things for us.  

And even more: in you, O Mary, our human strength and freedom are revealed, for after the deliberation of such and so great a council, the angel was sent to you to announce to you the mystery of divine counsel, and to seek to know your will, and God's son did not come down to your womb until you had given your will's consent.  He waited at the door for you to open to him ... 'Here I am, God's servant; let it be done to me as you have said.'

The strength and freedom of the will is clearly revealed, then, for no good nor any evil can be done without that will.  Nor is there any devil or other creature that can drive it to the guilt of deadly sin without its consent.  Nor, on the other hand, can it be driven to do anything good unless it so chooses.  The eternal Godhead, O Mary, was knocking at your door, but unless you had opened that door of your will, God would not have taken flesh in you.  Blush, my soul, when you see that today God has become your relative in Mary.  Today, you have been shown that though you were made without your help, you will not be saved without your help, for today God is knocking at the door of Mary's will and waiting for her to open to Him.

Peace, and a blessed Christmastide!

A Saint for Today

O God of the prophets, you opened the eyes of your servant Dominic to perceive a famine of hearing the word of the Lord, and moved him, and those he drew about him, to satisfy that hunger with sound preaching and fervent devotion: Make your Church, dear Lord, in this and every age, attentive to the hungers of the world, and quick to respond in love to those who are perishing; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.  Amen.
~Collect for Feast of Saint Dominic, Priest and Friar

Saint Dominic was born in Spain in the late twelfth century.  As the founder of the Dominican order of friars, he had a profound influence on the Church and world of the middle ages (the Dominicans, of course, continue as a religious order today).  But he is a timely example for our own day, as well.  The Dominicans, or Order of Friars Preachers, were organized in large part for the purpose of increasing the spiritual scholarship of the Church through study and devotion to the fundamentals of the faith, and then sharing the fruit of that study through preaching and teaching.  As a religious order, the friars adhered to a vowed rule of life, which was lived out within a dedicated community.

I believe that the Church today has a great responsibility to focus upon the same needs to which Dominic was called: the study and teaching of true doctrine, and the formation of Christian community.  The need for a focus upon learning and devotion to the essentials of our faith (both through catechesis and continuing formation) is ever present, but it seems especially critical now for the Episcopal Church.  I think it is difficult to argue with the opinion that in recent years there has been a consistent trend within much of the leadership of the Episcopal Church to downplay the place of Scripture and Christian tradition in favor of cultural relevance and experiential knowledge.  I don't wish to sound melodramatic, but I do believe the future of the Episcopal Church depends on a renewed devotion to the catholic, apostolic faith which we proclaim every week in our recitation of the Creed, but which I fear fewer and fewer Episcopalians are expected to understand or greatly value.

As for the need for Christian community, I believe this is one of the great challenges of our day.  Relationship is the reality for which humanity is intended.  Relationship lies at the very heart of God, the Ultimate Reality, as beautifully and mysteriously revealed in the doctrine of the Trinity.  It is into that relationship, and into relationship with every created thing, that God calls us.  In our world today, we pride ourselves on being more connected than ever before.  Through the marvels of technology, we can follow events on the other side of the globe in real time, and instantly chat with friends thousands of miles away.  And yet, how many of us know our neighbors next door?  I believe that the Church is being called to remind us of what we seem to be quickly losing in this most modern era.  The Church, which maintains that the greatest event of all time is not to be expected with the next Apple technology, but rather happened two thousand years ago in the coming of One who calls us into unity with God, is well suited to call us now back to the reality for which we were made: the love of God and the love of neighbor.  It is a call to meaningful, loving relationship in community, made to a world that is nothing if not busy.

Finally, it should be noted that Dominic did not simply seclude himself in an ivory tower, content to studiously delve the depths of doctrine.  He preached what he studied, and practiced what he preached.  Dominicans vow themselves not only to a life of study and preaching, but of poverty as well.  In the language of the prophet Amos, today's collect speaks of Dominic perceiving "a famine of hearing the word of the Lord," which references his call to preaching by alluding to another famous episode from his life.  While the young Dominic was a student at university in Castile, a severe famine struck the region.  In response, Dominic sold all he had, including his beloved books, for the relief of the suffering.  He is reputed to have said, "I will not study on dead skins when living skins are dying of hunger."

May God grant us grace and wisdom to partake of the riches of saints such as Dominic in our own day.

Peace.

On the Feast of Thomas a Kempis

A very small sampling of wisdom from his classic, The Imitation of Christ:

From Book II "Directives for the Interior Life":

Always take the lowest place for yourself and the highest will be given to you.  There is a highest place only because there is a lowest.  The saints who are greatest before God are least in their own eyes, and the greater their glory the more humble they are in themselves.  Because they are filled with truth and the glory of heaven, they seek no empty glory ... 

Jesus today has many lovers of His heavenly kingdom, but few of them carry his cross.  He has many friends who ask for consolation, but few who pray for affliction.  He has many companions to share His meals, but few to share His abstinence.  We all want to rejoice with Him, but few of us are willing to suffer anything for His sake.  Many follow Jesus up to the breaking of the bread, but few go on to the drinking of the chalice of His passion.

From Book III "On Interior Consolation":

Blessed are the ears that are attuned to God's quiet whisper, and ignore the world's raucous sounds.

If I am only outwardly admonished and not interiorly set on fire I may die and find that my life was without fruit, and at the moment of judgment I may be condemned for hearing the word but not fulfilling it, for knowing it but not loving it, for believing it but not living it.